


Candy Floss

by MidLifeLez



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidLifeLez/pseuds/MidLifeLez
Summary: Total and unashamed Berena fluff. Set in summer 2017.





	

Serena hadn’t quite known how to take it. “Genuinely?” she asked, as Bernie carried on plucking clothes from the tumble dryer. “Yes, why not?” She looked over her shoulder to catch Serena pulling a face in to her coffee. “Don’t you think it’ll be fun?” She smiled in to the drum at the moment’s pause.

“Well, yes, but… wouldn’t you rather take me to the fair?”

“The fair?”

Serena tried to channel her thoughts directly into her partner’s head: both biting threads off of the same stick of candy floss as they walk round arm in arm; faces lit by the lights from the children’s rides, maybe some fireworks; Bernie carrying all the teddies and balloons she’s won for Serena.

“Serena.” Bernie had her head cocked to one side, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter as she watched Serena floating away on her imagination. “I’m happy to go with this macho army thing as much as you like” – Serena raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at the breakfast bar she had been hoisted onto once or thrice – “But you really want me to shoot tin cans and knock down coconuts in exchange for stuffed toys as if it’s the 1950s when we could be having proper fun?”

“Is a theme park _proper fun_?” Serena knew this was an argument that she wasn’t going to win, but she pressed on just for the fun of watching Bernie’s excitement build. Her eyes were already wide with enthusiasm and great chunks of hair slipped out of her stubby little ponytail when she spoke, flinging her arms wide as she described the day she imagined. Having seen Bernie looking so broken in the past, so hollowed out by her emotions, it was now one of Serena’s favourite moments to see how much joy Bernie took from some things. _And if he improves… then I’m right._ The same triumphant grin. Eventually she stopped and looked at Serena with pleading eyes, like a child asking for something in a shop.

“Fine,” Serena said, pretending it was a greater concession than it was, “but you’re driving, and I still want candy floss.”

“Done!” said Bernie, lifting the basket of washing up to her hip. “Now give me a kiss if you want these clothes away neat and tidy.” She leaned over, and Serena planted her lips on Bernie’s proffered cheek, feeling her smile as she did so. “If only that was all it took to keep odd socks out of my drawer,” Serena said, patting Bernie’s backside as she passed.

****

It’s a warm enough day that they can have the roof down on Bernie’s car. Serena chooses a red scarf to tie over her hair and a large pair of sunglasses. “Very Thelma and Louise,” Bernie quips, twisting her own hair into a clip and picking up a pair of Aviators. “Well no driving off cliffs,” Serena says; “we’ll have enough of that once we get there.” While Serena makes a flask of coffee for the drive, Bernie goes and starts the car, sitting and waiting for Serena with her arm draped across the back of the passenger seat. She has on a white vest top with a pale denim shirt over the top, mostly unbuttoned and with the collar turned up. She can’t see Serena’s eyes as she walks to the end of the drive, but she definitely catches a glimpse of raised eyebrow and a rising pink in Serena’s cheeks as she climbs in.

The journey is fine – Serena doesn’t even pretend not to be drinking in the sight of Bernie, magnificent in profile, at the wheel – until they get within a couple of miles of the theme park and onto roads which are essentially the start of the queue to get in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was half term,” Bernie says, pulling her _whoops_ face.

Serena is peering in to every car she can as they eventually turn into the car park. “I knew we’d be the oldest here,” she says.

“No we’re not,” Bernie insists. “Look at them – they’re in their 60s if they’re a day. And look at that pair!” She points not nearly politely enough at a couple clambering out of a people carrier.

“They’re grannies and grandads! The only couples here are at least 20 years younger than us.” Serena fiddles with the back of her hair self-consciously as she takes off the scarf. Pulling up the handbrake, Bernie leans over and kisses her on the jaw. “Do you want to go home, or do you want to come and scream your head off with me?” she whispers hoarsely, hoping the suggestion will persuade Serena.

“Bernie, I…” but she can do nothing more than cup Bernie’s chin and kiss the grin off her face.

****

Berenice Griselda Wolfe does not scream on roller coasters, it turns out. She hoots. She snorts. She guffaws. It is insane and beautiful, an infectious combination. Serena’s screams dissolve into giggles long before each ride pulls back into the dock; she’s unable to take her eyes off Bernie wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks as she pushes up the harness and stands, extending then a hand to help Serena onto the platform. As they wander the park in the sunshine, Serena can’t help but slide her arm across the back of Bernie’s shirt, leaning even closer once Bernie lifts her hand and clasps Serena’s hand to her shoulder, simultaneously wrapping her other arm around Serena’s waist. This time last year Bernie had never walked like this with anyone; never felt so at ease with the closeness of another, with or without the crowds. She wonders how she had lived. Serena at her side is like oxygen, and holding her is like breathing: she doesn’t need reminding to do it, and it was vital that she does.

She pauses to drop the candy floss stick – now naked of its sugary pink yarns – into a bin and smiles at Serena. “You’ve got some on your lips,” she says through a laugh, thumbing the pink from Serena’s bottom lip and offering it back to her. Serena nips it off the pad of Bernie’s thumb and leaves a kiss in its place, then stands on tip toes to plant another on Bernie’s mouth.

“Log flume.”

“Charming,” Serena smirks.

“No, we need to go on the log flume. We’ll be too wet to get in the car if we don’t go on it soon. Our clothes, I mean. We’ll be - they’ll be drenched.”

Serena loves that Bernie still gets a bit flustered when she inadvertently offers her a bite at some innuendo; has to look away momentarily before daring to look Serena in the eye.

“We’re not going to get that soaked, Bernie.” Serena shakes her head. “The pictures always make it look much more dramatic than it is. But if you insist. At least I won’t be dangling upside down at any point.”

The queue isn’t too bad, the log flume now being probably one of the tamer rides in the place, and when they get to the platform Bernie steers them to the barrier for the front of the carriage, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet. She stands aside to let Serena climb in first, then scooches in close behind her. “I love you Serena,” she whispers over Serena’s shoulder, maintaining a steady gaze down the track even as Serena turns slightly to look at her. Bernie always chooses the most unexpected moments to say those words, turning otherwise mundane moments into snapshots that Serena collects and treasures. She doesn’t have time to say anything back before the ride starts moving, and Bernie doesn’t seem to require a response anyway.

When they emerge, they leave two sets of wet footprints on the wooden boards as they go, dotting drips of water from elbows, shirt hems, and noses. Serena can feel her mascara running on one side, can feel her hair stuck to the side of her neck. Bernie squelches half a step behind her, sensing that she might be in for an earful if she strays in to Serena’s eye line. She’s trying, not altogether successfully, to hold in a giggle.

“Bernie.” Uh oh.

“Would you like to see your photo, ladies?” The voice is so inappropriately chipper that Bernie fears she might soon have to rescue this poor girl from Serena, who has spun round to answer. “You look great!”

Bernie casts a worried look at Serena’s back. Waits a beat.

Waits another.

Steps forward, trying to see the picture over Serena’s shoulder.

Serena is tracing her fingertip over the photo as if it’s an old family favourite that’s just been dug out of the attic. The camera had caught them the second after the front of the log had plunged into the water, sending a wave into and over them. Serena is evidently shrieking, desperately trying to shield herself from the drenching. Bernie’s mouth is open too, but she is clearly laughing, barking, her face turned up to the sky to catch the spray. The sun is shining across her cheeks and even though the water has already darkened her hair, there’s a light about her. She looks so exquisitely happy.

“Yes,” Serena says, capturing Bernie’s hand as she moves to the till. “We’ll take this.”

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded this a while back, but it seemed in keeping with the Valentines Fluff Fest!


End file.
